


How Could I Forget to Mention the Bicycle is a Good Invention

by fallenhurricane



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, Human Derek Hale, Human Scott McCall, M/M, Stiles/Derek - Freeform, and dammit stiles is going to join, and doesn't know how to ride a bike, but adonis has a cycling club, stiles is bad at lacrosse, welcome week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenhurricane/pseuds/fallenhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is the president of a cycling club and looks like a Greek god. </p><p>Stiles doesn't know how to ride a bicycle, but damn, he wants to be in that club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Could I Forget to Mention the Bicycle is a Good Invention

 

Stiles is pretty sure the first week of college is supposed to feel less like he is being herded everywhere than it does. Where’s the freedom? Where are the parties, the hot guys, the free beer? So far all he’s getting are calendars full of mandatory Welcome Week events and a thousand free t-shirts in every possible combination of purple and gold for every conceivable organization. He has four from the Department of Housing and Food Services alone. 

So it’s really no surprise when, in the middle of the activities fair at the end of Welcome Week, another purple t-shirt hits him in the face.

“Stiles, look, they have a lacrosse club!” 

Letting out a groan, Stiles pulls the shirt off his face and shakes it out, looking at the golden lacrosse sticks crossed over the chest. “Thank you, Scott, for that.” He crumples the shirt up and throws it back at him.

Scott beams at him, snatching the shirt out of the air. Damn his reflexes. “We have to join!”

Oh no. Absolutely not. If Stiles is going to join a sports club in college, it’s going to be one that doesn’t bring back memories of sitting on the bench all season. “Dude, c’mon! This is college! A whole new beginning! We could try a new sport, or even something totally different- look, they have a cosplay club!” He points as Kid Icarus wanders by.

“But Stiiiiiles,” Scott whines. He continues to outline the importance of physical activity, and how lacrosse combines strategy and teamwork with strength and agility and promotes a healthy lifestyle, but jokes on him, because Stiles had eaten his way through a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos hidden in his sports bag during every game in high school. Finstock was never the wiser, and, apparently, neither was Scott.

Surrounding the table for the lacrosse club are club tables for table tennis, court tennis, an equestrian team, fencing, soccer, cycling, basketball, and shuffleboard. Stiles’ eyes flick over them all, and he chuckles when he gets to shuffleboard, because he’s pretty sure he’s in college and not on a cruise ship with the elderly. But something catches his eye at the cycling table, and when he directs his gaze back towards it, his laugh catches in his throat. Because hot damn. 

Standing behind the table, wearing a tight purple cycling jersey and the most adorable smile Stiles has ever seen, is Adonis himself. He’s nodding at something some girl is saying, and he raises his eyebrows and laughs, and Stiles grabs Scott’s shoulder. 

Scott looks down at his hand with a frown as Stiles says, without taking his eyes from the table, “Dude. Let’s join cycling.” 

Scott glances over his shoulder, and when he sees what Stiles is staring at, he rolls his eyes at him. “Dude,” he mocks, “you don’t even know how to ride a bike. Stop window shopping.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I could learn. I think I just need some… hands on learning. Experience. Whatever. And please. It's not window shopping if you're considering purchasing.”

That earns a snort from Scott, who pushes Stiles’ hand off his shoulder, mumbles something about him being delusional, and heads towards the lacrosse table. 

Stiles tries to follow him, really he does, because Scott is right- Stiles _doesn’t_ know how to ride a bike, joining the cycling team would be a _terrible_ idea- but somehow his feet direct him towards the Greek god with the tiniest hint of bunny teeth and eyebrows that probably altered the ocean’s tides and he finds himself shuffling his feet in front of the cycling table.

Adonis looks up at him, and he smiles, and Stiles honestly won’t be surprised if he drops dead right then and there. “Hi,” Adonis says, and Stiles isn’t sure what he was expecting his voice to sound like, but Adonis’ is much higher. Somehow, though, it’s perfect and it suits him. “Interested in joining the cycling club?”

Stiles’ stares at him, eyes wide. Adonis raises his eyebrows, waiting. “Uhm,” Stiles breathes. “I don’t- uh.” And what he means to say is that he doesn’t know how to ride a bike, but what comes out is, “I don’t see why not.”

He all but slaps himself in the face, groaning internally. 

Adonis’ smile widens and he slides a clipboard over to Stiles. “Awesome! We’ve been getting a lot less interest than we had hoped, so there are plenty of spaces open.” He holds a pen in Stiles’ direction. “Just put down your name and email, and we’ll let you know about all the awesome opportunities that come with being on the team. Like, if your helmet has a club sticker on it, you get a discount at the coffee shop and the market by the quad. Keeping the earth green and all that.” He quirks an eyebrow. There goes the tide. 

A helmet sticker. On a helmet. Right. Because Stiles is currently signing up to join a _cycling club._ When he doesn’t even know how to _ride a bike._ This is an awful idea. “Wow, really? That’s awesome. I love that market. And that coffee is the best on campus.” At this point, he’s pretty sure he’s in pre-babble mode, and he doesn’t want to get that far. He bites his lip.

But Adonis just nods. “It’s funny, I tell people that all the time, and no one agrees. They say it doesn’t hold a stick to Starbucks.”

“They’re uncultured swine,” Stiles replies. 

Adonis snorts. “Well, I’m glad you’re interested in the club. An announcement about our first meeting will be going out shortly.” He pauses, and takes the clipboard back from Stiles, his information filled out. “Oh, by the way, I’m Derek, the president of the club.”

Stiles nods. Derek actually fits him. Maybe not as well as Adonis, because _seriously_ , but it’s a nice solid name to fit such a solid person. Like, those biceps. Hell. “Nice to meet you, Derek,” he says, mostly to try out the name, see how it felt rolling off his tongue.

“You, too,” Derek says, glancing at the form, “Stiles.”

Well shit.

* * *

Two weeks later, Stiles is walking through the quad, a cup of coffee clutched in one hand and a pile of textbooks cradled in his other. Haha, funny to think he’d once been looking forward to classes starting. So. Funny.

A biker passes him on his left, and Stiles finds himself craning his neck to see who it is. A blonde ponytail trails out from under the helmet, though, so, not Derek. Unfortunately. Stiles hasn’t seen him since the activities fair. Not that he had been checking every biker he saw to make sure it wasn’t Derek. Or, you know, maybe he had. But nobody had to know.

Anyway, he had gotten an email from the cycling club a few days after the fair about an interest meeting, asking everyone to RSVP so that there would be enough pizza for everyone. And as much as Stiles hated to turn down free pizza, and seeing Derek, he couldn’t face hours of intense cyclists bonding over something he couldn’t do. So, regretfully, he had apologized but responded saying he had prior commitments. 

Life is rough.

As it stands, the last thing Stiles expects to happen as he turns the corner out of the quad, heading for the library to get some work done is… well, exactly what happens.

Meaning, he’s halfway around the corner when something crashes into him, sending him sprawling across the sidewalk. The lid pops off his coffee cup, sending scalding coffee onto down Stiles’ shirt. His textbooks fly out of his arms, and his bag slips off his shoulder. 

“Oh, god, I am _so_ sorry,” someone says, and Stiles lifts himself up on his elbows and looks around. Derek is picking himself up off the ground, ignoring the way his knee is bleeding. He gets his feet under him and holds his hand out to help Stiles up, adjusting his helmet with his other hand.  

Stiles takes it and maybe marvels a tiny bit as Derek pulls him effortlessly to his feet. “It’s fine, really. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Derek shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have taken the corner that tightly,” he says, gesturing to his bike. It’s lying on it’s side a few feet away, front wheel askew. “I really am sorry. Are you okay?” He looks concerned, and it’s basically more than Stiles can take.

So of course, he lets out an awkward chuckle and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But, uh, you’re bleeding,” he says, pointing to Derek’s knee. He stoops down to pick up his bag and textbooks. Derek reaches his psych book before he does, and holds it out to him. “Thanks,” Stiles says, taking it from him. 

“It’s just a scrape,” Derek says, waving it off, and Stiles raises his eyebrows skeptically. “But I’ll grab a bandage when I get back to my place.” He spots Stiles’ coffee cup, and notices the new stains on Stiles’ flannel. “Oh, shit, did I cost you a drink?”

Stiles glances down and smiles a bit. “Ha, yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, come on, let me buy you another,” Derek says. “I knocked you over, it’s the least I could do. Are you busy?” Stiles almost drops his books again. He’s not ready for this- he just wants to go to the library and study and get his psych reading done and now he’s about to accept a Greek god’s invitation for coffee because honestly, how could he say no?

“Uhm…” Stiles says, shifting his wait from foot to foot. He needs to buy himself at least a _little_ time. He needs to mentally prepare himself to spend more than two minutes looking at Derek’s beautiful, scruffy face. “Can I meet you back here in, like, fifteen minutes? That way you can get a band aid and I can change my shirt,” he adds.

Derek laughs. “Okay, yeah. Fifteen minutes. This corner.”

Stiles nods, shifts his bag on his shoulder, and turns to head back to his dorm. He waits until he turns the corner to throw his fist in the air like Judd Nelson.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Stiles is sitting across from Derek in their favorite coffee shop, sipping a macchiato and carefully pulling apart a chocolate chip muffin that Derek had ordered for him. Derek, it turns out, looks like a Greek god but acts more like… well, something really kind. And attractive. A kind attractive person with muscles made of steel and eyebrows made of magic and a personality made of perfect. 

Stiles is a little starstruck maybe. But, he’s managing. He’s making conversation without sounding like a total idiot, so that’s progress. He hasn’t fallen or spilled his coffee. He hasn’t unintentionally signed up for some sort of circus club that he has none of the required skills for. Ultimately, this interaction is going much better than the previous one had.

Well, it is, anyway, until Derek says, “So, do you normally walk around campus? I mean, nothing’s wrong with that, obviously. I just know most people in the club take their bikes.” He smiles, lifting his cup of coffee. He takes it black, which Stiles should have figured, really.

“Yeah, I, uh. I normally walk. My bike is….” He pauses, trying to figure out another way to say “nonexistent.” “…out of commission?”

Derek nods. “Understood,” he says, and Stiles really, really doubts it. “We missed you at the meeting last week,” and Stiles tries to interpret that. Did _they_ miss him, or did _Derek_ miss him? 

“Yeah, I just- prior commitment, you know?” Stiles says. Derek nods again and steals a bit of Stiles’ muffin. Stiles ignores the voice in his head that is currently screaming. Because Derek’s sharing food with him. He’s sharing food with Derek. It’s fine. It’s comfortable. It’s casual.

It’s slowly tearing Stiles’ insides apart.

“Well, maybe we can go for a ride sometime,” Derek says. Stiles bites back a snort, because really, that wording? Maybe he couldn’t ride a bike, but he could- no. He couldn’t let his train of thought pull into that station. Not right now. Choo choo, move along. 

“Uh… well….” Stiles lifts his coffee and busies himself with taking a few sips, then breaking off a piece of the muffin and shoving it in his mouth. He mumbles unintelligibly. 

Derek stares at him, raising an eyebrow. One day, those eyebrows are going to knock the world off its axis. Stiles is willing to bet money. And he’s a broke college student, so that means something. “What was that? C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise. I know some great trails.”

He was smiling so earnestly that Stiles just couldn’t. 

He sighs heavily. “I… Derek, I don’t know how to ride a bike.” Stiles leans his elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands.

A loud snort surprises him. “Wait, what?” Derek asks. He pulls Stiles’ hands away from his face. “You never learned how to ride a bike?”

Stiles looks up at him, sighing again. “No. I never really got around to it.”

Derek hums, letting go of Stiles’ hands. Stiles fingers twitch, missing the warmth, but it’s not like there’s anything he can do about it. So. He’ll deal. “You know,” Derek says, “it’s never too late to learn.”

Stiles laughs humorlessly. “I’m a lost cause, trust me. I’ve tried to learn. Other people have tried to teach me. Numerous people. They have all failed because, as I said, I am a lost cause.”

Smirking, Derek replies, “But you’ve never had me as a teacher.” With that, he reaches across the table, grabs Stiles’ napkin, and pulls a pen from his pocket. He scrawls on the napkin before standing up and handing it to Stiles. “Text me when you’re free, and we’ll start your lessons.” And with that, he leaves.

Stiles picks up the napkin, gaping at the ten digits written in surprisingly neat handwriting there. Out the window, Derek unlocks his bike from the bicycle rack and Stiles watches as he pulls it out and pedals away. And man, Stiles might hate to see him go, but he loves to watch him leave. 

* * *

“Alright, so first what we do is take off the pedals and let you get comfortable on just balancing.” Stiles stares as Derek kneels next to his own bike, which he decided to let Stiles borrow for the lessons he promised a week ago. He removes the pedals and sets them aside. “Alright, so climb over and see if the seat is the right height.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows, but does as he’s told. He swings a leg over the seat and settles down, but his Adidas barely touch the ground. Derek snorts, gesturing for Stiles to get off, and when he does, he lowers the seat. “Okay, try now.” 

Stiles swings himself back onto the seat, and his feet sit firmly on the ground now. “Okay… this isn’t so bad….”

“Are you balancing okay?”

“I mean, I’m not five. I think I’m fine,” Stiles snorts.

“Okay then," Derek laughs. "Ready to coast?” 

“Bring it.”

“Pick your feet up and kick off a little. Try to move some,” Derek says.

Stiles nods and kicks off, tensing a bit when the bike starts to move. He starts off strong, feeling good, and then, suddenly, the earth tilts. “Oh shit!” Stiles exclaims, legs flailing. The bike topples over.

He looks up from his spot on the ground, one leg pinned under the bike, to see Derek covering his mouth with a hand, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “You suck,” Stiles tells him. He squirms out from under the bike, which Derek grabs by the handlebars and stands back up. 

“That was a good start,” he says, and he sounds so amused that Stiles just wants to cry. Or kiss him. Maybe both, but not at the same time.

Stiles purses his lips and stares at him. “Yeah, sure, if I was training to be a stunt double, maybe.”

“At least you know your helmet works.” Derek thumps the helmet sitting on Stiles’ head, also a loaner from Derek. “You know what they say.”

“‘Life’s tough, get a helmet’?” Stiles says. At Derek’s blank look, he sighs. “Boy Meets World? Really? Nothing?”

Derek shakes his head. Stiles is disappointed, truly. To think he thought Derek was perfect. “I was going to say, you’ve gotta protect your second favorite organ.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and he hates Derek, he does. Truly. He loathes him.

“Because your lungs are pretty important, too,” Derek continues. Stiles groans. “So I would warn you away from smoking.”

“Pretty boy’s got jokes,” Stiles scoffs, before realizing what he just said and internally panicking. He quickly looks away from Derek’s reddening face. “Alright, so, what’s next?”

Derek takes a moment to respond. “Um, next we put the pedals back on.”

* * *

Three hours and twelve new bruises later, Stiles is still no closer to being able to ride a bike. He’s pretty sure he could call the asphalt his best friend now, though. They’ve been acquainted several times.

“I told you, I’m a lost cause,” he says, flopping into the grass in the middle of the quad. Derek rests his bike and helmet nearby before sitting cross-legged softly beside him. Stiles looks up at his profile, a little blurry against the darkening sky. He blinks a few times, a little surprised when Derek’s shape is still firmly there, real, not a figment of his imagination. They’d been texting some, sure, about classes and the cycling club which Stiles was officially _not_ a member of. (Turns out you actually had to be able to ride a bike. Who knew?) But the fact that he was actually interacting with Derek? Talking to him? Making him laugh? Getting to know him?

It was still pretty surreal. This was Adonis, after all. It’s not every day you find yourself becoming friends, if nothing else, with a hot Greek god.

Derek turns to him. “You’re not a lost cause,” he says, plucking a few blades of grass. He drops them near his shoe. “You just need more practice.”

Stiles groans. He sits up, then slides his sleeve up and pokes a fresh bruise on his elbow. “I don’t think I can take any more practice. I’m about to fall apart, dude.” He lays back down.

“No pain, no gain,” Derek says, and snorts when Stiles whines. He picks up a few more blades of grass and drops them on Stiles’ face. Stiles brushes them off his face and shoves at Derek’s arm. “We can try again tomorrow.”

“Or, or!” Stiles says. He holds up a finger as if enlightened. “Wait for it, this is a great idea. We could try again… never!”

Derek looks down at him. “Don’t you want to learn to ride? You could get around campus a lot faster.”

Stiles barks out a laugh. “You have _got_ to stop with the unintentional innuendoes, dude. I _know_ how to ride.” He gets the feeling that he’s said too much again, so he coughs and quickly adds, “And yes, but I could also bus people over and spill their coffee all over them.” 

“I don’t seem remembering you being too angry about that,” Derek retorts. Suddenly, Stiles is aware of how close they are, how Derek’s hand is resting in the grass just inches from his arm, how Derek’s foot is nearly touching his knee. Suddenly, he feels the need to  close the distance between _some_ part of them. 

But he refrains, saying, “Well, I could’ve been, but there was a free coffee in it for me. And a muffin. It wasn’t a bad day.”

“No,” Derek says. “It wasn’t.” He looks at Stiles for a moment, his face unreadable, and Stiles forces himself to keep making eye contact, despite the fact that he’s pretty certain his face is reaching solar levels of heat right about now. “But my point still stands.” He nudges  Stiles’ knee with the toe of his Converse, smiling.

Stiles hesitates for just a moment before he sits up. “Maybe, if there was some more coffee in it, I’d consider another lesson. But… just so you know, I’m more of a hands-on learner.”

“Oh? You must’ve forgotten to mention.”

“Yeah, I must’ve.”

“Well, could you be won over by something other than coffee?” Derek asks. He raises a hand to touch Stiles arm, and when Stiles nods, gaping, he moves to cup Stiles’ jaw. 

Stiles’ heart is racing, but his mind is blank as Derek leans forward, towards him. His eyes close, and then Derek’s lips are on his, warm and soft and Stiles is pretty sure time is frozen in the epic perfection of this moment. Or maybe he just wishes it would be.

He tilts his head and Derek shifts a little, and the kiss deepens, and Stiles’ head is going to explode because _Adonis is kissing him._ Actually, no, it’s _Derek,_ and that’s somehow even _better_ and also harder to believe.

But soon the need to breathe wins over, and Stiles pulls back, breathing a little harder than he would care to admit. “Sorry,” he says, as Derek gazes at him. “Had to protect my favorite organ.” Derek smirks, and together they say, “The lungs.”

“Well,” Derek says, running a hand through his hair, and damn, why hadn’t Stiles thought to do that? But then, he thinks he might have another chance or two. Or maybe more. Hopefully. “Did that convince you to give it another shot?”

Stiles grins at him. “You know, I could also get around campus a lot faster if I just sat on your handlebars,” he replies, grabbing Derek’s shoulder and pulling him back towards him.

Derek snorts. Just before their mouths meet again, he breathes, “I think that can be arranged.”

* * *

Months later, Stiles is leaning against the bike rack as Derek wraps a lock around his bicycle, clicking it closed. He finishes up and takes Stiles’ hand. “You know,” he says, “I never really thought to ask, but I just realized. Why’d you join the cycling club if you didn’t know how to ride a bike?”

Stiles blushes, but replies simply with, “Because Adonis goes to my school.”

Derek stares at him, brow furrowed in confusion, and Stiles laughs, and kisses him. He runs his hands through his hair, too, because, yeah. He can do that now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! The title of this song came from the Red Hot Chili Peppers song "Bicycle Song." Also, I found that "protect my second favorite organ" line somewhere on the internet, I think it's Neandy's signature on the Silverfish Longboarding site, which I stumbled upon in my helmet related research. 
> 
> I kind of wrote this fic in one day, the day after my own activities fair at college. I had an idea and had to get it down and sort of liked the result! So, I hope you guys enjoy it, too. Though I'm complete shit at writing romantic scenes, so I apologize about that. 
> 
> I, like Stiles, do not know how to ride a bike. So that's cool. High-fives to all the non-bike riders out there. And the bike riders. Basically everyone. You all rule.
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> My tumblr url is hurricanehoechlin, come by and hang out!


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